


Too Many of One Hero

by Froggyflan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Creampie, Gangbang, M/M, Oh My God, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, excessive cum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggyflan/pseuds/Froggyflan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1 Junkrat + 5 Roadhogs</p><p>Porn. Just porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many of One Hero

**Author's Note:**

> [Based on this great picture.](http://spyderling.tumblr.com/post/148088578279/5-hogs-and-1-rat-alternatively-help-him)
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy. This is the filthiest thing I've ever written.

The game was about to start. He just needed to wait for the other players.

He’s always the first one in the carrier. He’s too antsy, raring to go. He rips apart magazines and stuffs the papers into the vents. When that gets boring, he switches the contents of the medkits and supply crates and turns them upside down for good measure. And when it’s really taking too long, he starts throwing grenades at the basketballs, watching them fly about the room in every direction. Why did they even have basketballs here? The only person who knew how to play was that Egyptian bitch, and she’s was a cheater.

There’s a clicking sound, and someone enters the carrier in an instant. Roadhog. He scrambles over to him like a dog to his master, immediately pawing at him, twitchy. Roadhog looks stoic as always.

“Roadie! Jesus, man, I was ‘bout to go wild in this place all by meself.” He saddles up close and tugs on the spiked tire on his partner’s shoulder. Roadhog gives him a warning growl. “Reckon ya can help tear out that panel over there so I can hide in it? When Mei gets here, ‘m gonna pop out and scare the smart right outta her!”

Roadhog jerks his shoulder away, smacking Junkrat’s hand with one of the heavy spikes, earning him a yelp. He doesn’t seem to want to play along. “Can you not?”

“Oi, no need to be a bastard,” Junkrat huffs, waving the sting out of his hand. “Havin’ a bit of fun. ‘S real boring in here all alone.”

He throws himself onto the couch nestled into the corner, pressed up against the table in front of it. There’s a coffee cup on a coaster near his arm. He casually pushes it away until it falls to the floor with a loud cracking sound.

“Hey, we’re going to Russia, right? Ain’t it gonna be cold? Does that mean I gotta wear a coat?”

“Freeze to death,” Roadhog offers, and Junkrat frowns.

He lays out on his back, his knee bumping the table and making everything shift to the left. His hands rest on his stomach, but his fingers can’t stay still. They crawl up his belly and crawl back down, picking at the canister on his belt.

“Hey, Roadie. What if we find a bear? There’s tons of em in Russia, right? Like ‘roos? I want to fight one.”

“Get mauled to death,” Roadhog offers again, and Junkrat frowns harder.

He lifts his head from the cushion to watch Roadhog wiping at his gun and looking at a computer screen. So serious. He opens his mouth to ask if he’s ever had borscht before, but there’s that clicking sound and someone else is here. He sits up in a rush to see who it is. Maybe a healer, or one of the Americans.

He’s not disappointed, not at all. Junkrat lets out a cackling laugh and points a dirty finger.

“Roadie! There’s two of ya, mate!”

Roadhog turns from the computer to look at his doppelganger, just as big and just as scary. He’s got mud all over him, turning his black harness and blue pants brown. They both look each other over warily before grunting their trademark grunt. The more the merrier.

Junkrat is dizzy with excitement. He bounces off the couch toward the dirty pig of a man, leaning up close, always too close. “Mate! Ya a right mess! Been playing with piglets again?”

The man grunts, and it sounds just the same as his Roadhog, deep, annoyed. A big muddy hand lifts up to cover his face, pushing him away. He spreads the fingers apart so he can look between them. His Roadhog is eyeing them carefully.

“Look at ya! I’m a bit jealous, ya drongo. Ya didn’t even invite me!”

There’s hesitation with this Roadhog, lets him hold his hand like that, dried mud coming apart in clumps, rubbing into Junkrat’s fingers like sand. His smile doesn’t waver when the man looks away, anywhere but at him.

“Two Roadies! Holy dooley, what a day!”

His Roadhog is moving toward them with what seemed like intent, but Junkrat is preoccupied. He’s scratching at the dirt on those thick fingers, the texture fun to play with, rough familiar skin. The fingers close around his tiny hands, and he isn’t sure what that means. Junkrat just smiles.

There’s another clicking sound, and he peeks around the curve of the man’s vast belly. “Another customer!”

No, another Roadhog.

This one is just like his Roadhog, but his harness and pants are a strange green color, like kiwis. They look at him, and he looks at them, and there’s a simultaneous understanding grunt of acceptance.

“Now wait a tick,” Junkrat starts, and he suddenly feels like a child surrounded by giants. They’re all looking at him through their globed glassy eyeholes and he feels a shiver coming on.

Was something broken? Something was broken.

His Roadhog is so close now, right behind him. His prominent belly pushes against his back gently, and the muddy Roadhog is still holding his hands. The green Roadhog moves toward them, and Junkrat definitely has something wiggling under his skin. He hears a nervous laugh, and realizes it’s his own.

“Wait,” he says, and there’s another click, loud, ominous.

Another Roadhog.

“For fuck’s sake,” he says, and it’s too late. He’s being crowded by three tattooed pig faces, belly buttons tickling him. The new Roadhog is wearing a shark mask, filters jammed between the teeth, glittered with gold rings and keys. A swashbuckler.

He’s going to say something funny about that, really, he can think of some good pirate jokes, but he feels his voice leave him as soon as strong hands wrap around his arms, holding him in place, touching, groping. Thick fingers press in all the right places, rough around his ribs, hard pressure on his abs. Someone’s fingers are tugging at his satchel and canteen, unbuckling them and letting it all drop to the floor. Every single one of them knows how he ticks, and his skin is fire and sparks.

“Shit,” Junkrat hisses, watching the fourth Roadhog get the cue, taking heavy clinking steps toward him. This is how he dies, being manhandled by all these-

Another clicking sound.

He doesn’t even have words anymore, just a guttural yell of frustration as yet another Roadhog enters the carrier. Why couldn’t it have been Mei like he planned? This one has a funny mask with a big flat tongue, dark tattoos, a hula skirt. Junkrat laughs really really hard, but it turns into a shrill whine when fingers are shoved into his mouth and he sure shuts the hell up.

His Roadhog pushes the snout of his mask to his ear, letting out a hot breath and making him shudder. Junkrat leans back as he’s attacked from every angle with tender and brutal touches. He hums around the fingers, and his Roadhog yanks on his hair, gripping his chest to keep him grounded. Two hands are pulling down his shorts, and he’s immediately fondled there too. This is easily overwhelming him, and he’s starting to tremble and squirm.

There isn’t enough room for all of them, too huge to bunch together so closely. But they crowd around to watch, labored breathing loud and wonderful in his ears. The fingers are trying to gag him, he thinks, but they’re thick on his tongue as he sucks and bites. He gives a muffled agreement when his legs are spread apart, two hands on each thigh, and Junkrat is being put in his place.

The fingers leave his mouth, dripping, lewd, and he can finally let out that needy moan he’s been holding in. It makes them all tighten their fists, grit their teeth, and he knows all Roadhogs are the same. They hate the sound of his voice, but love the sound of him being fucked.

There’s a hand on his ass, cold and wet, pressing between his cheeks, and he readies himself the best he can. He leans forward against the muddy Roadhog, getting some of the dried dirt on his chest, and moans again when he feels the burn at his hole. Those beautiful fingers are terrible for opening him up, too large, too painful. More join, kneading his ass in large calloused palms, one digit forces its way into him, slick with lube. Junkrat knows it’s his Roadhog touching him there. He’s always prepared like that. His cry hitches in his throat as the finger pumps into him with rhythm. The touches increase tenfold at the sound of it, twisting his nipples and gripping his hips. He’s never felt it so good before, so thoroughly abused.

“Please,” he moans, and every sound he makes goads them on, makes them press and push and nuzzle. They squeeze at his throat, a thumb at his adam’s apple, every inch of him is caressed and he’s mad with the feel of it. Junkrat rolls his hips, and they react so quickly it’s amazing, pinching and grabbing like he’s a ragdoll. He loves it.

One finger turns to two, and he groans in appreciation, bucking into it. They scissor and curl and turn him to jelly. The Roadhogs are starting to get impatient, can feel it in the way they move him about roughly, gentleness being replaced with greed. He feels his body start to descend to the floor. They’re getting him into position, and Junkrat is so ready.

The green Roadhog is underneath him, and the hands on his thighs keep him spread painfully. The fingers leave and the space is replaced by cock, thick and dangerous. He feels the bulbous head pop into him and the sting that always comes with it makes him choke up, but God if the hands all over him weren’t making it all okay. He watches through blurry eyes as they start to shuck their belts off, unbutton their flies, and he’s greeted with four more identical erections.

This is what heaven is like.

The Roadhog below him delves in deeper, slowly, and he doesn’t even have time to think about it before he has a dick in each hand. He’s careful with the prosthetic, knows what it’s like to get pubic hair caught in the joints, and starts to squeeze and pump and roll his wrists just right. The aching stretch in his ass makes him whine. It’s only a few moments, but it feels like forever until he’s flush with the Roadhog’s hips. All the way in.

Another Roadhog walks up to him, and he’s got one on all sides now, boxed in and trapped. He strokes Junkrat’s face with one hand and pumps his junk with the other, and the skinny junker’s mouth is already open and waiting. God he wants it.

The Roadhog pushes into his mouth bit by bit, and at first his lips are way too dry to be doing this, but a few little thrusts and he’s drooling hard, coating his lips and letting it drip down his chin. It’s a heady taste, bitter from precome, but he forgets all about it as soon as he feels himself being lifted up and brought back down, slick, tight, deep. He moans around the erection in his mouth, grips the ones in his fists hard, and it feels like the entire room is moaning at the same time.

Holy shit. Junkrat can barely form thoughts. Holy shit.

The Roadhog beneath him is holding him by the waist, pulling him up and down, fucking into him, and Junkrat’s so wrecked already. It’s so big, so filling, hitting him hard and sweet. Junkrat bounces on that lap, and it helps him keep tempo. Each thrust up is met with a tug, a bob of his head, and it’s an onslaught. Everything is moving, back and forth, in and out, all around him. His skin is sweaty with the close proximity, and the lack of space is making him burn up.

Junkrat can’t say anything now, not with that cock in his mouth. He utters a quick whimper with every thrust, muffled by ruddy flesh. His own poor donger lays neglected between his legs, jumping with each push, but he couldn’t care less.

His Roadhog is still behind him, never left. Junkrat feels him pulling at his dick, rubbing it against his spine. He takes his mouth off for a moment to lean against him, turning his head to blow him instead, but meaty fingers grip his head and turn him around, shoving him back onto the other Roadhog’s dick again. He gags around the flesh, making his throat spasm wildly. His Roadhog continues to hold his head in place while the other Roadhog fucks his mouth thoroughly.

Being spread so wide is making his thighs hurt, but he’s kind of suffocating on dick, so he concentrates on not dying. The pig tattoo on this Roadhog presses against his forehead as he continues to deprive him of oxygen. He sucks hard, tries to breathe through his nose, but he’s choking and writhing hard. He’s about to let go of the cocks in his hands to push this Roadhog away, but they finally let up, hand in his singed hair rubbing almost apologetically. He forgives him instantly.

The thrusting is starting to drive him insane. It’s getting out of sync, pushing in so hard he sees stars, and his body arches into it just right. The hands at his waist are squeezing the life out of him, and he’s caught off guard when he’s smacked down against those wide hips quick and sharp. The sound of flesh slapping together is crude and pornographic, and it hurts, fuck does it hurt, but it all comes to a head when the man under him roars, makes Junkrat cry out around the meat in his mouth because he’s in love with that sound, and he’s filled with hot searing cum so quickly he feels he could burst.

The Roadhog below him jerks a few more times, making Junkrat jump sharply, but the rhythm of this game was still going strong, still more Roadhogs to please. He pulls out, and he feels the cum drip out. This is so dirty. The Roadhog shifts him about, lifting his hips up so he can get out, and before he knows what’s happening, another Roadhog replaces him, the pirate, who jingles loudly as he shoves up into him. The cum makes it easy, so slick and open, but the feeling remains the same. The fat cock rams into him like it’s going to blow and he’s practically screaming around the silky flesh in his mouth. His legs shake as they’re held in place, his waist starting to bruise from the aggressive hold. This Roadhog is eager, desperate even, driving in with a force that makes his whole body tighten up.

Now that one of his hands are free, he immediately reaches down to touch himself, but it’s ripped away as his Roadhog stands to his side now, moving it down to touch his prick gently. He grunts lowly at him, and Junkrat feels his face heat up and his eyes sparkle. He can wait a little longer.

Things are going fast now, and the Roadhog under him is being violent. The slap of flesh is loud and wet, snapping hips with blinding force. It’s making him whine and curl about, his hole aching fiercely at the stretch and assault. He’s trying hard to pay attention to the Roadhogs around him, but the bouncing and pushing is making his eyes go cross and watery.

After a particularly deep thrust, Junkrat pulls away from the prick in his mouth to start cursing up a storm, and that just makes the Roadhog under him growl and push harder, slamming in and out until he’s coming. His insides are thoroughly coated now, messy and disgusting. He’s moved out of the way again, and the jostle makes Junkrat wince. Another Roadhog takes position beneath him, and he’s twitchy with pleasure. This was too much.

“Please,” Junkrat whimpers, and he’s filled up again. It’s the muddy Roadhog, and this time it’s slow, soft, loving. He rolls his hips up into Junkrat, a steady push and pull that leaves him glassy eyed and trembling. It’s gentle, too gentle, and he yearns for more. He grinds his hips down onto him to move things along, but he’s just held in place, teased. His junk is crying, Junkrat is crying, everything feels like wonderful torture.

The cocks in his hands are starting to feel dry as he tugs on them. Now that his mouth is free, he leans to the side to kiss one and then the other, deep throating them for a long moment, getting them slippery, making his job easier. Junkrat looks up at his Roadhog with adoration, pulling him into his maw, taking his time to lather him in love. The hand in his hair makes him purr, makes him close his stinging eyes and let tears fall down his dirty cheeks.

He’s been rubbed raw. His wrists ache from pulling and twisting, his mouth is starting to tear at the corners, and God forbid his hole is thoroughly destroyed. Each caring thrust is making him quake in their hands. He’s given a warning, a squeeze to his sides and a throaty groan, before he’s pumped full of cum again. It’s starting to get everywhere, dripping down skinny thighs, spilling out.

The Roadhogs switch again, moving him about like a toy, and it’s the Roadhog with the funny mask under him now. His grass skirt tickles Junkrat’s thighs, braids itchy and coarse. When he pushes inside, it’s a dull throbbing pang, cum squelching loudly. Junkrat swears he’s going to be full of cum forever. There’s so much of it.

Now it’s just him and his Roadhog, and fuck is he smitten with that big lug. Junkrat reaches forward to grasp at the hanging overalls, pulling him even closer until his mouth is stretched wide around him. The exotic Roadhog holds his hips tightly and bounces him, each movement lighting a fire in his gut. He’s being used up, sloppy and perfect, and this is easily the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

His Roadhog cards through his air, tugs at his ears, thrusts gently forward into his big mouth, and Junkrat wishes he could die like this. Well maybe if he ever got the chance to get off. He whines around Roadhog, reaching a hand down to touch himself again, but it’s snatched up. Junkrat pops off the man and gasps.

“Please, God,” he murmurs, the thrusting underneath him only getting out of control, rude wet slapping. Junkrat could orgasm from just one single pump, if he’d just let him. “Let me!”

His Roadhog shakes his head, pushes Junkrat’s hand to his junk, and moves him back into position. “‘M waiting.”

Junkrat’s frustration is all encompassing. Waiting for what? For him to keel over? He squeezes the base of the velvety cock as he mouths at it again, pumping and sucking, hoping he’s getting under Roadhog’s skin like he’s doing with him. He’s not.

This session is the quickest, probably since Junkrat’s been jerking him off this whole time, but the Roadhog plunges in one, two, three more times and pours into him silently. His big hips seize erratically, and Junkrat can’t take any more. He’s not built for this kind of mistreatment.

As this Roadhog moves away, lets the cum pool out, his Roadhog is pulling out of his mouth. Junkrat tries to follow with a drippy tongue, but he’s roughly turned around by the shoulders, bending him over and pressing his face into the warmed metal floor.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, feels his knees spread apart and a big belly rest over the small of his back. He clenches his fists and breathes hard. God yes.

Roadhog delves in, and it feels different, better this way. He moans loud, pushes back, wanting everything he’s got to give. He lets out a surprised yelp as a big hand reaches around and fists his sad little erection, and he wasn’t wrong, he’s coming from just one single pump.

He screeches as his body heaves and grinds it out, spurting onto the floor and into that warm rough hand. Roadhog pushes forward as he continues to milk him, thrusting hard, and Junkrat is dumbfounded with pleasure. He twitches fiercely, eyes wide and colors flashing. He’s never come so hard in his life, and it’s so fucking good he can’t feel his toes anymore. Roadhog grips his sore hips and jams into him over and over until he swears he’s going to pass out. His hole is so spent, but it still takes him in like he could do this all day. Junkrat lifts himself onto his elbows, presses his head into his hands and tries to breathe.

He’s too sensitive. The feeling of being stuffed full, the cum dripping down between them, sticking to his thighs and making a mess of Roadhog’s pants, is almost unbearable. Each thrust is a sharp twinge, a painfully delicious sensation that sends him reeling in every direction. He moans until he runs out of air.

He doesn’t want this to end, but his body is begging for him to stop. It’s too much, too wonderful. Roadhog wraps a hand around his throat, and that’s the sign that it’s nearly over. Junkrat tilts his head back, lets him choke him harder, and he is a bundle of nerves screaming for less, for more, just stop before he dies.

Roadhog’s hips are like a piston, shoving in and out of him mechanically. He touches Junkrat’s soft privates, and it nearly kills him. He’s crying out even as the hand chokes him, and that’s when the man jerks forward, spilling in with a deep booming bellow that shakes Junkrat to his core.

They stay like that a moment, letting Junkrat pant against the floor and return to earth. When he pulls out, Junkrat can’t hold himself up any longer, and he crashes down in a heap of cum and dirt and sweat. He’s leaking heavily, and it’s pooling between his legs, getting cold and thick. He shivers at the uncomfortable itch of it, but it was so fantastic.

His Roadhog pats his side like a job well done, and Junkrat rolls onto his back to look at him. The big man leans forward to press his snout against his face, and he responds by kissing it weakly.

He looks at the other Roadhogs, all having forgotten about their tryst in favor of exploring the carrier, checking supplies, enjoying cups of coffee. Some of them are tagging the door with brightly painted pictures of pachimaris and pigs.

Junkrat’s pulsing with hypersensitivity, and he breathes slow.

“This is a terrible team composition.”

**Author's Note:**

> Froggyflan.tumblr.com


End file.
